


Shady-8's; Best Drinks in Kaon!

by JJJotun, M4D



Series: Prime Stories [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Backstory, Drinking while the world blows up, Gen, Gladiators, Humour, Introspection, Pre-Cybertronian Civil War, Tables getting broken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJJotun/pseuds/JJJotun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/M4D/pseuds/M4D
Summary: They had met before, but it would take a war to get them to introduce each other.
Series: Prime Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003563
Kudos: 7





	Shady-8's; Best Drinks in Kaon!

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wondered how Airachnid joined the Decepticons, so I made this hunky (featuring some other bots as well)
> 
> Even though pretty much all of my stories have featured Starscream, Airachnid has always been my favourite and I shant be convinced otherwise enjoy

Her first job was incredibly boring. The apparent lack of any sort of interaction within her cubicle was jarring, besides the occasional calls she would make to the sponsors. The office building was surprisingly clean, she had a few other co-workers who never talked to her, probably trying to not get into trouble with the higher ups. She could hardly blame them, as tempting as it was to find out. There was no business more shady than Kaon's great Gladiator Pits.

The job was a market manager, simply responding to calls and mail from different sponsors who wanted to fund a certain fighter. The person on the phone usually sounded like a dull clerk, like herself, probably another figurehead used by the company in order to ward off suspicion from who was really behind the sponsorship. 

Location was never described in these calls, though with a little digging on her part using the company names, was unsurprised to find out most of them were in Cybertron's most idealistic cities. Airachnid pondered how exactly they could get away with sending those funds for so long. Perhaps the incredible lawfulness of cities like Praxus and Iacon were getting to the people, they were dying to participate in something as taboo as fights to the death.

From time to time, the office would give out free tickets to matches. She made sure to always go, despite never really being interesting to her. The general rowdiness of the crowd was unappealing, and she had to severely squint her optics into zoom in order to get any good details of the fight. Her most favourite experience from one of these matches was when the mech sitting next to her, probably after having too much to drink, got a bit too close and gave her a good excuse to scratch his finish. Unfortunately, she missed the fight's end with the mech surrendering embarrassingly. Disappointing.

She had hoped at first that working a job associated with Kaon's gladiator pits would be a little more dangerous, but the shody office building next door was so safe it was laughable. They had a view of the arena, but just barely, hardly being worth it to pray the fighters would be visible when they could visit the ring themselves.

Kaon itself was not nearly as dangerous as the rest of Cybertron liked to make out, or maybe she'd grown too fond of it to see its flaws. You didn't randomly get mugged every thirty kliks on the streets, nor did bodies scatter the corners of buildings like confetti. It certainly wasn't very maintained, but the city appealed in that way of you never truly feeling safe, despite your life being guaranteed the next cycle. That was probably why so many of its citizens prided themselves in being tough, it was easy to trick yourself into thinking that way in Kaon's mixed environment.

With that said, the city was still dangerous in other ways. Crime was everywhere, not so obvious if you wanted your spark intact. The sheer fact that bloodshed was the state's top sport gave a much clearer understanding. Stay away from dark alleyways, always check your Energon, make sure to lock your doors properly, and most definitely absolutely _stay away from bars._

Which is exactly why her second job was a bartender.

The store was a few blocks down from the central arenas as well as the office building, making it a prime location for both business and an easy commute. _Shady-8's,_ a ridiculous name in her opinion, almost charming in that way, the irony in it was amusing. It was a small location, only a single floor among a strip mall, first floor down for best access. Obviously the bar had been designed by and for larger bots, making that fact apparent she walked in for her first day.

Her co-worker as well as store owner, had been putting up adverts on the web, looking for a femme bartender. She didn't know if the job offering was for sketchy purposes or not, for if it was, she would've accepted anyways. The bar was nice and set up upon arrival, she realized the mech was breaking his endoskeleton at the amount of work he was punting down into keeping his little shop clean. It was almost embarrassing.

The mech's name was Makeshift, she couldn't identify any sort of nationality based on his looks alone, it made her curious, but they didn't talk much outside of work. They didn't talk much _during_ work either, but she understood his type, the silent observer. They were too similar to never have met before.

Mixing and preparing the various assortments of highgrade was the less invigorating part of the gig, as ever satisfying as it was to turn a blue cube pink with just a few sprinkles of questionable ingredients from questionable sources. Memorizing different bot's go-tos, recognizing the daily specials and occasional slurred words of mechs that had one too many glasses.

One of the troubles was how easily someone sitting at the bar-table could lean over and see that she was using a ladder. The mechs sometimes poked fun, depending on whether or not they were actually a bigger size, but it wasn't hard to be. She was surprised that the biggest locals of the bar never really pay much attention to that fact, usually it was the ones who were only a few meters taller. Most likely self conscious, she made sure to pinch their audial receptors for it. Though they seemed to like it when she was more abrasive and rowdy than the usual compliant waitress. She was glad, she liked it too.

The part of the job that appealed to her the most was the Cybertronian's lack of awareness for their speech when they were overcharged. Makeshift shared glances to her on occasion when they were both standing behind the bar, they both enjoyed the eavesdropping. She never had an outlet for the odd, and otherwise completely bizarre information she absorbed every day, but still felt it necessary; and fun; to listen in and just _observe._

Almost all of the mechs who wandered into Shady-8's were locals, for the very reason why many did not like Kaon in the first place. They were probably scared a fight would happen and never would see the light of day. Her and Makeshift didn't even try to stop fights when they broke out, not that they were incapable (which was most of the time) but rather how amusing the fights could be sometimes. It was like a gladiator pit battle but with a front row seat that's also in the ring. Though, just in case they got too out of hand (which was least of the time) there was a ridiculously large Energon blaster on the underside of the countertop, she'd pray the mechs got unruly enough that she could pull it out.

Being so close to the arenas was good for business, though not so good for the many tables that would break every week from various activities that would go down in their bar. On occasion, when big matches ended, the gladiators themselves would take a seat on one of the group tables, encouraging further socialization. Airachnid enjoyed it when they did, not only because their sheer presence stopped fights all together, but because of how interesting it was to watch their characters.

She learned from these conversations that the higher up in the gladiator ring, the less likely the matches would be lethal ones. The sponsors probably prefered if all of the best warriors stayed alive and leave the audience on the edge of their seats, wondering what will happen next. There was no reason to kill off their seasoned competitors, not yet at least. In fact, the majority of fights were typically staged to look lethal while the recipient was fine in the end.

As she became accustomed to the post-fight scheduling, her mind subconsciously referred to the gladiators by the first thing that came to her mind. Names were reserved for the ones she found really special.

_Big red_ was oversized, alias fit the description, had a bit of trouble getting in the bar but otherwise never caused any strife. Most of the patrons were too scared to even attempt to make him angry, Airachnid didn't want to know the payment for damages if they riled him up. He always ordered the largest mug of crystalline purple available, a desperate attempt to get drunk through his thick systems. Despite his size, he sat at the bar every visit, Makeshift decided to order a specialized bar-stool just for red, probably his one act of kindness for the decade.

_Busty,_ Airachnid didn't even know the gladiator was a femme when she made the nickname. Tall, bulky build, elegant purples and blues. This particular mech enjoyed being the activator for many fights, which usually ended up in her throwing a smaller, and less sober mech behind the bar and crashing into the flasks. She seemed popular, not for her looks but her actual intellect in the ring, which interested her greatly.

_Slender,_ she wasn't sure if this bot was actually a femme or not, they never spoke, yet always took a middle seat up at the bar table. Blue, or maybe grey, they didn't seem like the fighting type at all. Airachnid felt a strange urge to sprout in conversation, to try and see if Slender would talk. But she realized they were similar, another silent observer within her store. Skinny used to point to their signature, _8-cube_ drink, until she learned that the bot wanted it every time. One day, she hoped to break into that silent processor of theirs.

Speaking of Slender, they had a friend. Airachnid couldn't even think of a good nickname for this one, other than _lord o'mighty._

Megatron was the new and upcoming gladiator, she'd never been to one of his games but the sponsors she received calls from, almost always went for Megatron. Hearing that name over and over again annoyed her, stupid Megadolt and his what ever fighting skills, making sponsors drool at the very thought of him. But now, she understood why that was the case.

Big Red had nothing on Megatron, elegant spiked pauldrons with a grey warrior's armour, both prideful and humble. He loved conversing with everyone in the store, imploring questions and eager to share his thoughts about anything. The gladiator always sat at the big group table, almost like the teacher in a story-time circle for hatchlings.

His voice, all encompassing, she found it near impossible to take her optics off the performance whenever that vocalizer sounded; her blessed monochromatic optic colouration made it less obvious to stare. Despite his warrior's appearance, she remain surprised he was a gladiator at all. He seemed like an activist, a poet maybe, someone that works with their voice rather than their fists.

He always ordered raw highgrade, pink and hot. Airachnid hated how intimidated she felt walking up to the table he sat at, asking for his requested drink. That same table became somewhat of a thing for talk, some mechs sitting on the chair Megatron always took and bragging about it. Makeshift wanted to put an ironed-on lapel on the buffet that said "the table of gladiators". She didn't dare tell him that she liked the idea, knowing he was going to do it anyways. Megatron, upon seeing the sign, laughed and gave them a tip.

That was how things would be, Airachnid was comfortable in that cycle, but like all Cybertronians, had the desire to do more. For now, she would do her usual commute between workplaces, go to her apartment and get her five hours of recharge, as well as a bit of free time to browse stores without buying anything. It was all a waiting game, but while she waited, decided to make the most of it with that unusual bartending job.

Order highgrades, clean the premises, get replacement tables and on occasion a new jukebox (which was a target for mechs getting thrown at). It was mundane, yes, but interesting in ways she knew others probably wouldn't understand. She went on with life, trying to ignore the world above her and focus on the one in that little store.

The talk in the bar was absolute, however. Things could only possibly get worse, but then again it was hard imagining Kaon being any worse. Megatron's words were getting to her, but decided it wasn't worth her time to think on. She hated keeping up on current events, when people were much more interesting.

One day, the bar was empty, not prime business hours currently, so the two of them took the time to clean and prepare for the next wave. It was very quiet, the radio played some soft electronic that neither of them were listening to. Swiping at the bar with a wet cloth, she looked down at her reflection as Makeshift cleaned the grade-makers. 

There was no one in _Shady-8's,_ in fact, there was no one outside at all. No Cybertronians driving past on the street, or pedestrians. It was very odd, but easily ignorable. She sighed, looking at a square glass she was too lazy to pick up, Energon residue resting at the bottom. The guy who ordered it was one of the sobbing types, bemoaning about how rough things were going at the moment. She wasn't good at reconciliation, her co-worker was the one for that, but she listened anyways. He accidentally left too much shanix before leaving, Airachnid didn't mind one bit.

"Could you turn the news on?"

She said, causing Makeshift to look up from the brewery. He raised a brow, indulging in the strange request.

_"Thought you hated the news."_

"I do, feels weird today is all."

He gave her a strange look but simply shrugged and walked over to the player. The music zipped off as Makeshift cranked around with the hud, eventually getting to the local news channel. Airachnid strutted over behind him to see if he was actually doing as requested, looking at the station's name.

Faint static was heard, the mech scratched his head in ponderment. He tapped at the screen, to which she assumed in an attempt to get it to work.

_"Guess today_ is _weird…"_ he said, before hitting the radio a few times without mercy, it continued spitting out static at his pestering. The music channels were just fine, Kaon's radio tower must've been experiencing an error, or perhaps maintenance. Or, maybe- no, that was pure fiction to even think of.

She frowned, staring at the player while also shifting her gaze around. The silence was starting to feel strange, besides Makeshift's insistent grumbling, as well as that annoying static. Usually she enjoyed the quiet moments in the bar, just staring out the glass window that connected their shop to the outside world. It was still light out, a propeller for their poor business at the moment, or so she thought.

The ground rumbled, Airachnid instantly looked to Makeshift, assuming his optics were as wide as hers. It shook again, a bit more prominent as the flasks and glasses clinked against each other on the shelves. _Cyberquake,_ is what she hoped it would end up being.

She stumbled as another quake erupted, nearly toppling over as she leaned on to the jukebox for support. Words didn't need to be exchanged, just looks. The cube that was on the bar fell to the floor, spider-web shards scattered the floor and spreading as more jumps were made. _Not a Cyberquake._

They both made their way to the bar table, ducking behind and underneath it, next to their insured abnormally large Energon blaster (as per Swindle). Less shaking, rather than the ground shattering noise of destruction that resounded through the walls and into their audial receptors. She brought her head close to her knees, spider legs hugging her body closely as a much more clear _bang!_ shot through the air.

_Guess today is weird…_ did he have to be so obvious? Even through this, Makeshift opened the cabinet under the bar-table, fished around until shakily grabbing a bottle before it fell to the ground. Popping open the top, he brought it to his lips and chugged the highgrade like his life depended on it.

She decided to follow up and got a bottle of her own, watching as wall decor started falling and the highgrade ingredients barely clung to the shelves before occasionally dropping down, it was quite literally a scene from a horror flick.

Makeshift both sighed and groaned, the two of them flinching as the glass on the bar's front window shattered instantaneously. They bundled close under the bar-table, trying their best not to make it an emotional moment as Airachnid opened her drink and did just that. Gunfire was heard, just barely but enough to make her spark dwindle in fear and anticipation. Suddenly, Makeshift laughed, leaning his glass over in her direction.

_"Congratulations, we're now war casualties."_

She rolled her optics and obliged, tapping their bottles together with a small _'cheers'_ to end it off. She was unsure when the moment of their demise would actually come to pass, still waiting and wanting to get drunk before it happened. But, with deep regret, realized that some part of her wanted to peek out of the bar-table and see what was happening.

If she had thought to have ever known the sound of death, this was surely to take its place. Maybe it was just her audials ringing, but the horn like buzz and siren-song were dizzying, more blasters going off in the distance.

They hugged each other tightly, that was bad, that meant she was actually scared. Pit's spawn and wreaking havoc on the city, she wasn't even aware of who was battling, if it even was a battle and just an assault. This was most definitely; not the ideal situation to be in. Drinking Highgrade probably wasn't helping that fact either.

The blasts and rumbling of the ground continued on for what felt like hours, her optics pierced closed as they both huddled in that utterly unsafe bar. More flasks hit the floor, surprised that the building hadn't shown any signs of collapse, that would most likely come later once the bodies were swept by some magnificent bomb. Another sip from the glass, the world started feeling less real as the surreal idea of warfare happened right outside their shop.

She hadn't noticed it had gotten quieter, too busy filling her mind with fuzz just to drown out the sensation of the metal floor shaking. It sounded like wind, dry harsh and wintery wind. Makeshift was sitting in a slouch, staring off into space, probably relaxed that the quaking had somewhat stopped. The radio's static was finally audible again, shocked the thing was still intact.

Bangs and gunfire were more blurred, a distance away, or perhaps the aftereffects of the noise were still reverberating within her processor and trying to trick her. She let out a vent she didn't know she was holding, now focusing her mind on listening more closely. The ground barely shook, only the occasional vibration to remind them of their mortality in the moment.

Something moved, she wasn't quite sure what. On reflex, she grabbed the Energon blaster off its perch with some effort, heavy in her nimble arms. Makeshift probably heard it too, pursing his lips together as his optics shifted from side to side. Glass crunched, whirring of life occupied the death-hum of the air.

It sounded like footsteps, she gripped the gun much more tightly, utterly unsure as what to do next. The steps stopped, metal clank to signal that whoever it was, was standing right outside their shop.

Airachnid jabbed her partner with the silencer of the blaster, him making a grunt and a "what was that for?" face. She signaled for him to look up from the counter, to which he shook his head.

_"Frag that, I'm not going up there, you have the gun!"_ He whispered dramatically, to which she growled in response.

"Yeah? They'll think we're hostile if we show them the weapon! You go-!"

_"No way, stop being a wimp and just look-!"_

"You go, dumbaft!"

_"You go-!"_

"I hope I am not intruding, the store is usually open at this hour."

Airachnid and Makeshift instantly stopped bickering to stare at each other in silence. That voice was recognizable, but she wasn't sure if she should feel comforted by its alto. She swallowed, still holding on to the Energon blaster with her spark, building up confidence to even dare to attempt what she wanted to do. 

With a deep exvent, she shifted her spider legs off of her body, hating that they were shaking ever so slightly. Gripping the top of the counter, she steadily pulled herself up, Makeshift following suit as he pushed himself up off his aft. They both peaked over the bar, optics widening to see the figure in their shop.

Megatron looked in rough shape, armour battered and some Energon deep wounds, sword slicked out which was uncomfortable to notice. He stared at the both of them, eyes hardened and red, observing the bartenders in their ruins. She held the blaster, not visible on the gladiator's part, very clueless as to his intentions. She had wondered why Megatron had been visiting their bar less.

He walked forward, nearly making her flinch as he stepped over toppled benches, peering at "the table of gladiators" as he vented in rough, deep strides. Though he did not take a seat at the near broken buffet, deciding to go for a new route, towards the both of them.

They squinted as the warrior, almost uncharacteristically, leaned down to pick up a bar stool that had fallen over. It was an odd feeling as they both watched Megatron take a seat on that stool, breathing like he'd just been in a battle, resting his arms over the countertop. He eyed them, tilting his head to watch as they slowly peaked more out of their hiding place.

Airachnid decided to put the gun back in its socket, now realizing that Megatron's intentions were just as they seemed. He spoke, out of breath but still just as proud.

"Do you happen to have the 8-cube special? Oversized, make it pink, Soundwave recommended it to me, I think I will need the energy."

With that moment, she realized they had finally met each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for grammar checking my lazy bum qracko, hope you all enjoyed the story!


End file.
